186/365: A Dead Man's Lures

sail and sky

We drifted along at half a knot
fishing overboard with a dead man's lures.
You can't catch anything at half a knot, he said.
I didn't know if this was true.
It didn't matter.

I watched him unwrap lures from their store packaging,
new lures last picked out by the dead man.
It felt as though there should be meaning here,
a place for the needle to skip
or a bookmark to be placed,
for the universe to record this spot in the story,
but nothing happened.
The lures were unwrapped, attached to the lines,
and dropped
down into the water
where they dragged behind the boat
while nobody watched.

#365poems at Schmutzie.com

187/365: Freedom So Near

Five Star Friday's 245th Edition Is Brought to You By Franz Kafka